


Shut Your Eyes

by Siria



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-23
Updated: 2006-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 21:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are the ways John sleeps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shut Your Eyes

These are the ways John sleeps:

Under a table in the mess after the party celebrating their return home; punch-drunk and drunk on punch, paper party hat on his head and a smile on his face so broad that Cadman can't help but take a picture.

Curled in on himself, with tight-shut eyes and tight-fisted hands, on top of his sleeping bag, under the hot, yellow light of an alien midsummer's moon, Ronon keeping watch.

Propped against the bars of a Genii holding cell, restless and fitful and resentful; too aware of his team around him, Teyla's head pillowed against his thigh, a stranger's blood under his fingernails, Rodney's breathing harsh in his ear.

On his feet in Elizabeth's office, in the middle of another briefing, when even adrenaline and duty and sheer rage aren't enough to stop him from swaying into Ronon's bulk; Elizabeth's voice, almost angry, when she says _please, John, get some sleep_.

Flat on his back beneath cold sheets and scratchy blankets, breathing slow and even, in time with the waves that lap against the wall of his quarters.

This is the way John sleeps: alone.

This is the way Rodney sleeps: always prone, on his stomach, brow furrowed; as if by pouring all of his energy into sleeping, he will gain more in return; a straight-limbed, stubborn defiance of the laws of conservation of energy. On missions, sometimes, John sits next to him, wakeful, and watches. John does not touch; there is space between them always. His palms itch.

He cannot always resist.

This is the way John and Rodney sleep, now: in a bed which is too narrow and too short, but which seems to fit them both just right. John's head rests on Rodney's shoulder, and his hair tickles Rodney's chin; when Rodney hums, low in his throat, John can feel the vibrations against his lips. One thumb strokes idle circles over Rodney's hip, while Rodney's hands know every inch of John's skin from the nape of his neck to the curve of his ass. Skin-sated and sleep warm, they rest there, breathing in time with one another; and when they wake, they wake together.


End file.
